


First Day of Spring

by drvology



Category: Eyewitness (US TV)
Genre: M/M, fic-a-month, my 2018 challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-18 20:53:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14860112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drvology/pseuds/drvology
Summary: Lukas has thought about this and thought about this and thought about this.





	First Day of Spring

**Author's Note:**

> In the same 'universe' as my other Eyewitness fics, grouped together with the 'at the falls of the aniene river' collections link. || In 2018 I'm hoping to write 1 fic a month. This is 06/12. Fic for June.

The wood surrounding the house is alive with cicadas and quick-chirp frogs as night settles in, dark and cool and pleasantly damp.

The house is quiet, Helen and Gabe out to the city on a date night. Won't be back until tomorrow morning—he and Philip planned an awesome breakfast to make, muffins and fruit salad and everything—left money for pizza they ignored in favor of wolfing down pb&js and getting to making out as soon as possible.

Leaned on the counter in the kitchen, Lukas nibbling the back of Philip's neck, hands down the front of Philip's jeans, while Philip struggled to throw together a quick batch of brownies. Halfway up the stairs to Philip's room, stuck trying to move keep climbing keep kissing, without breaking apart. Standing in the doorway to Philip's room, fountain burbling low accompaniment as they sway and suck wind and each other's skin.

Lukas circles Philip, who is tugging at his shirt, while tugging at Philip's. He skates his hands everywhere, loves the warmth and texture and absolute fucking reality of Philip here with him, doing and giving this, loves drawing urgent and pleading noises from Philip just from being able to hold exactly what he wants in his palms.

Shirts shed, tangling in their arms as their arms tangle together, then they're walking from their shoes and stumbling toward the bed.

Lukas' hands automatically find Philip's hips, lift pull need, as Philip straddles him, movements and fit perfect and natural as their heartbeats.

It's great. Always so great. He thought—worried—he could get tired of it, somehow. That the novelty was all that zinged, the fear and hiding and taboo all that singed his senses. But nothing to that, nothing like that.

It's only ever better and he only ever wants more, endlessly hungry for it and Philip's touch as much as he savors their not-doing-anything company, and with them open and known and safe it's so much more than better it leaves him gasping.

It's great but there's something on his mind. Lukas has thought about this and thought about this and thought about this. He hasn't asked for it yet but god he wants to, he wants.

"I want…" Lukas licks his lips and still has zero clue how to say more.

"Yeah," Philip answers, thinking he knows what Lukas means. Philip is so responsive as always, zoning out on their connection and gorgeous, so hot grinding against Lukas' hard-on, the rub of their jeans making scratchy, burring vibrations.

Feels so good, good enough Lukas almost gives into it and forgets what he's been wanting to ask for weeks.  But he manages to focus, pinches Philip, pulls his hips back enough to break the steady pressure building between them.

"No, I want. I mean. I'm thinking—" Lukas huffs and circles Philip's wrists with his hands, runs them up until his thumbs press to the bend of Philip's elbows, soft but solid and a thrumming pulse to steady his own.

Philip focuses too, nods. "What're you thinking?" he encourages, kisses Lukas' forehead, the tip of Lukas' nose, the dip of Lukas' chin.

Lukas isn't totally sure about it, even here on the verge of asking, but he can't escape the surety of being obsessed with the idea. Dogged his daydreams and fantasies for so long. He figures that means they should try, and if he hates it that's okay, Philip will stop and laugh at him and kiss him and they'll be fine.

They share a long silence as the cicadas wheeze to a fever pitch before ebbing again. Philip massages his shoulders, teases a nipple in a light brush of fingertips, patiently waits.

"foryoutofuckme," he finally pushes out, a single word and barely any sound.

Vivid pictures swamp him, so much realer and more immediate with Philip over him, their bodies aligned. His feet wide and Philip inside, pressed to his ass. His face pressed to the pillow next. Just the thought of Philip's fingers or mouth anywhere near his hole—doing more than the tentative, brief strokes Philip's has kept things to—has his vision giving way to darkening spots.

"…what?" Philip rears back and shakes his head, stares in confusion.

"Sorry," he says, floundering because Philip just keeps staring, staring, mouth fallen slack and eyes faraway. "Sorry, we don't have to, you don't. Maybe you don't want to—you probably don't want to why would you want to."

Lukas' jaw clamps involuntarily, shuts up shut up shut up he thinks, hard enough he bares his teeth and hears them groan. Stupid, he's stupid, this whole thing is stupid.

Then Philip jerks so hard in he falls right off the bed.

Lukas flops both arms over his face and rolls over. "Forget it," he mumbles, mortification and fading horniness a weird mix making his limbs shake.

"Oh no, no way." Philip's words are jarred, staccato beats as he climbs back onto the bed and drapes atop Lukas—jeans and boxers gone and it's Lukas' turn to jerk so hard he could fall right off the bed. "I think I fell through a rift in spacetime there, _I'm_ sorry. But holy shit of course I will, I definitely want to, I mean, have you seen you?"

Lukas grumbles but it's more laughter than anything, as Philip nips at his shoulders and spine and tugs his jeans down.

"I just never thought you'd want to. And that's way okay. I love what we do—what you do to me," Philip whispers, into Lukas' ear, rumbly and dirty but sweet. He traces patterns on Lukas, arms to hands and back in, ribs and muscles to the small of Lukas' back, pauses there.

Pauses long enough that Lukas squirms, lifts his ass, invites more. But Philip doesn't take the hint. So he pushes onto his knees, can't help it as he arches deeply, feels dumb and vulnerable and incredible. Starts to understand what's so great about this end of things, why he's thought about it so long. Giving himself up, giving control—offering and sharing, completely.

Philip's hand covers the shallow of his cleft and holds, warm and weighty. "Are you sure?"

Lukas nods, reaches but misses Philip's arm, so he drops and shimmies and rolls over. Philip grins, leans in and kisses him, greedy and demanding and wonderful. The bite of his heels in the mattress loosens and slide and Philip slots in closer, blood-hot skin and wet-heavy cocks and a subtly charged change in their dynamic. Lukas is already almost out of his mind.

He ruts up against Philip, licks the corner of Philip's obscenely pouty damn talented mouth, holds onto Philip's shoulders.

"You really did surprise me, that's all. Shit—Lukas." Philip's breath is ragged, strangled. "Can't wait to fuck you," he grits out between kisses. "Hope it's okay hope I make it good—"

Lukas laughs outright, snags the back of Philip's neck with his elbow, mashes their mouths together. "So shut up and do it," he mutters, chews on Philip's lower lip and rubs his cock against the sleek fold of Philip's hip.

His laughter bends into an amazed, incoherent noise when Philip's finger slides into him. He swallows his heart, vaults onto his palms flattened on the bed, knees hitching higher as his toes curl.

Philip smiles and soothes him back down. "Wait til I get going," he promises, works the finger in a slow crooking motion.

All Lukas can do is grab his thighs and nod and try to watch Philip's turned-on concentration and Philip's finger going into his body at the same time.

Philip fumbles in the sheets and then drizzles lube over their point of connection, sudden cold that makes Lukas whimper a little. Philip watches him—holds his gaze—and gets a second finger in.

"Uhhh—" is all he can say, from way down in his chest, from the wanting that's been building for this for so long.

Philip gets him, nods and strokes his leg, his cock, kisses him. Lukas tongues Philip's lips and twists his hips so whatever Philip is doing with his fingers doesn't have to end or break their kiss. It's strange, invasive, feels too big and not nearly enough, isn't anything that he expected but then he had no clue until this moment what this would be.

He likes it. He thinks. Can't imagine and can't wait to feel the stretch and push of Philip's cock instead—replays Philip's expressions from when he's slid in so slow or pounded too fast and the grasp of Philip's hole on him as he looks on, slamming again and again from behind—almost comes just from that and has to hold his breath until the too much way too much fades a bit.

And he definitely wants to do it again. But he also definitely wants to fuck Philip next, for a week straight given how hard he is, before they get to that.

"Ohhhhhhhh—what…" he shout-breathes as Philip's fingers drag over something inside him that feels like fire and a tortuous itch he can't quite reach to scratch and tender as every one of their kisses, same time.

He knows what it is. Has found it again and again in Philip, knows the pleasure it causes, the power and pleasure to give it gives him. But right now all he knows _is oh my god oh my god harder push it press it something just anything, do anything you want_.

"I will, I am," Philip promises, as Lukas is apparently babbling all that aloud.

He doesn't care. Rounds his hips and relaxes so Philip's fingers slide deeper and he grunts with satisfaction. Philip touches, massages, presses to that place again. Over and over.

The tip of Philip's cock smears next to Lukas' filled hole and he loses it. Just like that. Comes so hard he thinks he blacks out, goes into some crazy out of body orbit where all he can feel is Philip's fingers and breath and the wracking spasms they continue to tease from him, can't even be disappointed they didn't even get to the fucking him part.

When he floats back to something resembling awareness, he misses Philip's touch filling him but chuckles at the familiar sticky wetness coating his skin—too much to just be his own. Without thinking he runs a finger though it, tastes it, shares the taste in Philip's suddenly there kiss.

The cicadas are silent but the fountain is there, soft and calm and reassuring. Ever since figuring out how to heal from all the crap they went through, this house and the wood and even Tivoli have started to seem good again, not a lurking threat, and it's nice to lie here kissing and holding Philip without worry or fear.

"Sorry—god, sorry." Philip grunts expressively. "But we can try again. Later. If you want."

Lukas pretends to think it over. "I mean. Only if _you_ want to."

Philip is panting and flushed and out of breath but still manages to roll his eyes, snark, "Yeah, I just came in like fifteen seconds because I'm so not into the idea."

"Fifteen?" Lukas asks, equally breathy, nerves rioting scattershot, desire and delirium. "Seems generous."

"Asshole," Philip huffs, kisses Lukas again.

Lukas hums happily and nods. He wraps his arms and legs around Philip and now he can imagine what trying again will be like. His cock jumps and heat tugs deep into his groin. Not quite enough to get hard again, but it won't take long.

He pushes and rolls, gets atop Philip, fits perfectly between the easy open welcoming spread of Philip's legs.

"I will get there—so gonna fuck you—it's just you're so hot all whiny and needy." Philip grins, smug, and Lukas has nothing to say about it. Doesn't need to because Philip understands, cherishes him and his vulnerable want and offer, his whiny neediness, in kisses and touches and that amazing more than a quick brush against his hole first exploration.

Lukas pushes Philip's knees down, farther apart, and rolls his hips.

"But you can fuck me first, get me back in the mood. If you want." Philip's eyelids flutter and his mouth opens on a sigh that might be a whine needier than any of Lukas'.

"I want to tear a hole through the mattress with you," he growls, edgier than usual, but he's happy and buzzed and horny, and Philip likes it.

Philip shivers, chatters, kisses him open-mouthed and wet everywhere and ready.

Later Lukas will think about how damn lucky, awesomely amazing lucky, he is. How it's just good, always good, how Philip never betrays his trust or his confidence. Later he'll kiss Philip, sweet and gentle, right before muffins and fruit salad, say a quiet thanks that Philip will answer with another kiss, an affectionate almost shy _of course_.

He palms his cock, hot and hardening, nearly there, presses the tip to Philip's hole to tease. Follows with his fingers pressing inside, finds that spot deep within, pushes and massages, making sure Philip is okay and good and grooving with him.

Levers back and lines up, joins them, watches Philip's blissy expression and the stretch of Philip around him. Forgets about thinking on everything else for so long, forgets about later, knows only this.

It's enough. Better and better. It's everything.


End file.
